Death, Love and Everything In Between
by 0oxymoronic0
Summary: Merlin never wanted an adventure. Hope, love and fear can drive us beyond our stubbornness. MerlinxArthur.
1. I

**A/N**

**Research for this chapter.**

**Tents - This, I'm afraid, is a little bit of artistic license. In everything I could uncover they generally only used tents for military purposes, and wouldn't have really used them for 'camping'. However, I kind of needed to use it, and besides they are used in a similar fashion in the first episode. The shape I ended up picking (for imagination's sake) is a Saxon wedge-style tent.**

**Foods - I deliberately chose foods I was pretty damn certain they'd have back then. (Bacon and eggs.)**

**Arthurian Legends - I managed to unearth some Bedivere legends on them marching off to Mont St. Michel to face a giant. I know this happened in Arthur's reign but again, I'm afraid, it's a bit of artistic license.**

**This story is complete and will be updated once a week.**

**Chapter I**

"I don't know, Merlin," Gwen sighed dreamily as she spun in a circle, wrapping a sheet around her neck and striking a pose. "I just want to go on an adventure!"

Merlin smiled fondly. "What, and changing the linen twice a week isn't enough of an adventure already?"

Gwen scowled at his sarcasm. "Definitely not! I want… I want a _proper_ adventure, you know, with dragons, and swords, and fighting, and maidens in tall towers…" Her face clouded over with childhood dreams and her arms hung loosely by her sides as she sighed.

Merlin shook his head sadly. "That sounds like fun, but in _reality _swords are ridiculously heavy, maidens in tall towers do not want to be rescued nine times out of ten – " Arthur had assured him of this fact. " – and don't even get me started on _dragons._" He pulled a face, and Gwen looked at him as if he was quite crazy – she did that quite frequently nowadays. "Besides, that's all Arthur's business, and I'm quite happy out of it, thank you."

"Don't you ever want to _do _something with yourself?"

"I am doing something with myself," he insisted. "I'm making a rather rubbish job of changing Arthur's sheets, and he's going to get quite cross with me if you don't help."

Gwen sighed at him again, but picked up the crumpled sheet from the floor, folding it neatly in two. "Say what you like, but when opportunity comes knocking I'll be quite happy to ride out of here on a white horse."

Merlin's life had always contained a sort of ironic humour, and it was, therefore, at that moment there was a knock on the door.

The messenger tumbled in and Merlin, who had been expecting impatient demands from Arthur, was suddenly filled with an overwhelming fear.

"Arthur's dead," he whispered, voice full of desperate terror. "The Crown Prince is dead!"

* * *

Merlin had always known, in a sick sort of calm, that Arthur was going to die someday. It still didn't mean he could accept it, now it had happened.

Morgana was desperately unhappy, Gwen claiming she was inconsolable; for the first time in twenty years the court was united in its grief.

Save for Uther, and Merlin, whose dry eyes joined and recognised the loathing vengeance in the others'.

* * *

A dull gloom, a quenching darkness spread along the castle as Merlin made his way to his quarters that evening. Gaius was silent when he entered, and so he pushed past him (and his wretchedly concerned eyes) to sit on his bed and stare out of his blackened window.

Any other night, he'd be in his Prince's chamber, talking about nothing and everything.

Merlin had experienced premonitions of Arthur's death before. The concept was not unknown to him.

"This is where I wake up," he whispered, hugging his knees. "This is where I _always _wake up."

The darkness stretched on around him.

* * *

_Merlin?_

_Don't believe them, Merlin, _please…

_I'm so frightened…_

_Merlin?_

* * *

It took Uther a matter of days to point the finger at witchcraft. What mere mortal, after all, could possibly defeat the Crown Prince of Camelot? Merlin had expected it – the whole court had – and knew, now that Arthur was gone, his own fate was not far beyond him. With no one left to protect him, he found himself devoid of the ability to care.

He had visited the dragon, once, and screamed until he ached, but received no reply. He couldn't help but wonder whether the dragon had shrivelled and died along with his Prince, its one hope of freedom – of a glorious future for Camelot – destroyed.

Merlin had _failed._

But if the dragon was gone, whose little voice could he hear whispering inside of his head?

* * *

_Merlin?_

_Please, hear me Merlin…_

* * *

A week passed, and Merlin was discovered. Whether Uther's calculating brain finally put two and two together, or if Gaius betrayed him, or if Uther simply needed someone to blame he would never know; they came for him in the night – Merlin was awake anyway, for his life was a living nightmare, and he could not confront those of his dreams – and placed sacking over his head, cloying and warm, and bound his wrists in chains in case rope was not strong enough. He would see no face for hours – or minutes? So hard to tell… – save for that of his rescuer, and so he dwelt in the cold and the dank, and yet he still could not cry.

He tried to remember, but he didn't think he'd ever cried in front of Arthur. He'd cried because of him, and not just out of frustration; there had been the occasional terror, or loneliness, but never this sorrow. Arthur had never actually _gone _before.

A person can only die once.

Once is more than enough.

Death, he thought, lying with no possible semblance of a future, would be the easy way out. He was going to burn, he knew it; Uther would not settle for a hanging or even the axe for the murderer of his heir. He would _burn_. Merlin couldn't help but feel it was appropriate this was a self-chosen death; he could stop any of these guards, given the chance.

He simply didn't _want _to anymore.

And it was because of this, this _effortless_ feeling that sunk into his arms, that he lay in the dark and felt exceedingly sorry for himself.

_And yet he still could not cry._

* * *

Faint shouts and thumps of guards inaudible to him, he had no idea of his rescue until Morgana whipped off the sack from his head, the vague remnant of magic still glowing in her eyes. She led him stiffly by the hand through the myriad of handy tunnels running throughout Camelot, to where Gwen stood, face streaked with tears, holding a horse with trembling hands.

"You must ride east for half a mile, then wait in the tent that's out in the woods," she muttered to him hurriedly as Gwen helped him onto the horse.

"I've never ridden before!" he whispered down to her, looking more than a little frightened, and she smiled.

"I'll point her in the right direction. It's just a matter of jumping off at the other end." She laughed at Merlin's horrified face. "Joking!"

"Arthur – " he began, but found himself incapable of finishing. "My magic." Merlin stared off to the pink horizon. "How long have you – ?"

"I've always known, Merlin," she said absently, and not a little sadly. "Takes one to know one, hmm?" There was a pause in which even the horse did not make a sound. "Arthur cannot be dead, Merlin," she said softly, and Merlin looked down with angry eyes. She shook her head. "No, you don't understand. He _can't _be dead. I placed a protective ward – it was so _strong_ – "

"Someone evidently found a way to break it," he snarled, and Morgana shook her head.

"Even Nimueh couldn't break it. Why do you think she needed you to do her dirty work?" She sighed. "The thought of a sorcerer strong enough to break it scares me, Merlin, and I simply won't believe it. Thinking Arthur is… enchanted somehow is the lesser of two evils. Nobody has been allowed to see him, save for Uther, and he is blinded in his hate for magic…"

"What was the price?" Merlin asked softly. "If this ward is as strong as you say it is, there must have been a price."

"My sanity," Morgana said softly. "Not today, not tomorrow, but someday."

"Morgana," Gwen said quietly, her voice broken.

"Go, Merlin. Hide. I'll come find you when it's safe." He hesitated, staring down at Gwen, his mouth opening, but Morgana cut him off with an almighty "Go!" and the horse kicked into life.

He left Camelot behind with his heart.

* * *

As Merlin stared at the pile of cloth that used to be his tent, he decided that it was at times like these he wished he'd spent more time on his survival training with Arthur.

There was someone in his camp.

He'd gone to collect water – that much he could cope with, just about, though he had fallen in twice – and had returned to find someone standing in the middle of his rune circle, warming their hands on his half-constructed fire.

It couldn't be Morgana. Unless Morgana had suddenly lost all her hair, along with what remained of her femininity.

Merlin tried his best to sneak. He sort of failed around the time he fell over a log and ended up flat on his back, staring up at the intruder, who peered down at him jovially. "Hello there! You must be Merlin." A hand was proffered to help him up, and because he was less of a fool than some would believe he took it. "I'm Sir Belvedere, I've been sent by the Lady Morgana to help you." Merlin remained remarkably silent, and the knight raised an eyebrow. "I took the pleasure of tying up your horse, seeing as I met her halfway back to Camelot." He gestured behind him; she was grazing happily with Belvedere's, in a clearing beside them. "Your tent is packed and ready to go. Would you like some breakfast, first?" He motioned towards some bacon, sizzling in a pan.

"I'm sorry," Merlin replied, "but where exactly am I supposed to be going, and where is Morgana?"

Belvedere nodded. "Morgana has found herself incapable of leaving the castle, I'm afraid, so has sent me in her stead. And as for where you're going, Morgana's aware of a sorcerer outside the lands who might be able to tell of Arthur's affliction. I'm to accompany you there with this." He dug around in various breeches until he found a folded envelope, sealed with a rune which contorted violently on the page. When Merlin tried to reach out for it, Belvedere put it away. "Sorcerer's eyes only, sorry," he smiled, and Merlin looked at him suspiciously. "Would you care to mount up?"

He clambered up on his horse whilst Belvedere went about destroying what was left of his 'camp', then climbed on his horse with a graceful movement and set the two of them trotting along. A silence which was thankfully more amiable than uncomfortable settled between them, until a (rare) thought occurred to Merlin.

"Belvedere," said Merlin slowly, frowning. "Are you the one who went off with Arthur to – "

Belvedere sighed. "I wondered when this would come up. What are you about to say, Mont St. Michel? The Giant?"

Merlin opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded sheepishly. "Um, sorry?"

"You're thinking of Sir Bedivere," he said gloomily, nodding once. "It happens."

"So…"

"I'm Sir Belvedere."

"No relation?"

"Not even a relation."

"Oh."

Belvedere sat up in his saddle for a moment. "Though I do have a twin brother," he said with a smile.

"Oh?" Merlin inquired, looking hopeful. "What's he called?"

"Fred."

"Oh."

* * *

Merlin had begun to feel sympathetic to Arthur's saddle sores, and he'd only been riding for half a day. When he finally clambered down, he went and sat in a river for a bit, looking around hopefully for rose hip and finding nothing, slinking back to the camp glumly and collapsing next to Belvedere with a sigh.

"I made you some eggs," he smiled, and passed them over. Merlin looked at him like he was a god and tucked in. "I suppose this technically counts as an adventure, doesn't it?" he said dreamily, pushing a yolk around in a messy circle on the wooden plate. "I have so wanted one of those for such a long time."

"You and the rest of the world," Merlin sighed. "I'd have anyone take my place right now, but I'm not so cruel."

Belvedere nodded absently, and Merlin got the impression he wasn't really listening to what he was saying. "I suppose I shall have to die at some point," he sighed glumly, and Merlin choked on his eggs in astonishment. "The brave knight perishing so that the quest can be victorious? It's Custom and Tradition, after all." Belvedere sighed. "I've never really wanted to die for the line of duty. I suppose that's why I've always been a bit of a useless knight."

"I don't think you're a useless knight," Merlin whispered softly, and Belvedere smiled.

* * *

_Merlin?_

_Merlin?_

_Can you hear me, Merlin?_

_Please, help me…_

_Merlin?_

Merlin gasped and shot up in his bed, chest heaving as he gripped the sheets in blind terror. "Arthur?" he whispered.

_Merlin?_


	2. II

**A/N**

**Research**

**Carrots** - introduced to Europe in the 8th - 10th centuries.

**Chapter II**

"Arthur? Is that you?"

_Of course it's, me, idiot, who else could it be?_

Merlin nearly cried.

_Oh god, you're not going to get all horribly tearful on me, are you?_

"No, no, I'm… I'm okay," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes nonchalantly and glaring at the floor. "…I'm not going mad, am I?"

_No more than you already are._

"My mind hasn't invented you to cope with my utter and despairing loneliness on this arduous journey, has it?"

_I should hope not. That'd be a rather dull existence. Besides, I shouldn't like to think your mind is capable of creating anything as brilliant as me._

Well, it certainly _sounded _like Arthur.

There was the faintest clunk of armour from outside his tent, and Merlin froze as Belvedere stuck his head in. "Oh – you alright? Heard you talking, thought you might be having a nightmare or something."

Merlin smiled that smile which always blatantly meant he was up to something but trying to hide it. "No, no, I'm fine, all fine here," he grinned inanely. If 'Arthur' had eyes, he would have rolled them. Belvedere, however, gave him a cheery smile in return and retreated from the woollen hangings.

Merlin let out a long, shuddering sigh, staring at his feet again. 'Arthur' seemed to have quietened, and he let it be that way, until he realised he was crying again. "I thought you'd died," he whispered, and he was _shaking_.

_I'm sorry. I hoped you wouldn't believe them._

"I thought you'd _died_."

_Then why were you riding off to some distant land on false hope?_

"Exactly because of that," he whispered. "I had _hope_."

_You'd do that for hope?_

"I'd do that for you."

* * *

The landscape was broiling when they finally set off, the sun not far into the sky. "That was quite nice," Merlin said cheerily to Belvedere as the horses trotted off. "I got to have a bit of a lie-in. Normally I'm up before dawn, washing, darning, knitting – "

Multiple choruses of "You sound like his wife!" and _you sound like my wife_ put him off for a moment, before his grin widened as the opportunity set itself in his mind and he let out a long, weary sigh.

"It's a hard life," he simpered, grinning to himself as he imagined Arthur's expression. "The hours are long, the pay goes to my mother, naturally, and as for the treatment…" Wearily, he shrugged his shoulders at Belvedere's sympathetic expression.

_You're unbelievable._

"You must care for him very much," said Belvedere, and it threw Merlin because oh, oh, he didn't know how to answer that anymore…

He was very aware of Arthur sitting in the back of his head, waiting for a reply.

"Yes, I suppose I must," he whispered, and he wasn't sure if was the truth.

* * *

Merlin's head sunk under the water in a clean dive, powering through neatly and coolly as he splashed to the surface. _Do you think I'm a ghost?_

Merlin shook some of the water out of his hair, smoothing down his fringe. "A ghost?" he echoed, rolling back his shoulders.

_Cursed forever to haunt useless servants._

"If you're a ghost, doesn't that mean you're dead?"

_We don't actually know if I'm dead yet._

"You just told me you weren't."

_Yes, well, I hardly have a full grasp of the situation here, do I?_

Merlin sat in quiet thought for a moment. "So… we're down to what, three options? One, I'm totally stark raving mad."

_We already knew that much._

He ignored him. "Two, you're dead and a ghost, and all this is hopeless."

There was silence for a moment. _I'm not sure I like that option._

"Three," he said softly, "you've been put under some form of enchantment, possibly too strong to even hope to break, resulting in me having to go off on some ridiculous quest to the middle of nowhere on no real solid information, in the hands of a man I've known for two days and with my Prince's voice stuck in my head."

_Now that_, Arthur said, and Merlin could have sworn he was grinning, _sounds like an adventure._

* * *

Belvedere sighed as he patted his horse's flank, watching Merlin standing in the lake talking quite amiably to himself. "Nice chap," he murmured, arm moving in slow strokes. "Totally bonkers, but a nice chap nonetheless."

* * *

"We'll set down here for the night," Belvedere said as a slightly less damp Merlin came back to camp, washed clothes bundled under his arm. He spread them on carefully positioned sticks above the fire, sitting down next to Belvedere and taking a hunk of sausage from him gratefully. "We're moving out of the King's official territory tomorrow." Merlin sipped carefully on some river water, nodding. "Meaning there'll probably be a lot more ducking and diving and lollygagging about."

Merlin smiled. "Lollygagging." He sat and stared into the fire. "You know, I don't think I've ever been this far away from home before." He sighed. "Camelot was something, but now…"

"You don't see Camelot as your home?"

If Arthur could feel, Merlin realised, he had the distinct impression he'd be…

Sad?

"No," he murmured. "I don't." He couldn't help but feel he was lying.

"Home is where the heart is, after all," Belvedere nodded, gesturing with half a carrot.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Merlin said, then realised he'd (yet again) responded without thinking and blushed ferociously.

Belvedere grinned. "So, after all that moaning earlier, what do you _actually _think about our dear Crown Prince?"

The dear Crown Prince who was being remarkably quiet at this moment in time, Merlin noticed.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You can tell me! It's just us two out here, after all."

But it wasn't.

That was the problem.

Merlin lay in his tent and listened to the sounds of the night.

He wasn't one for this, normally. Normally, he'd be so tired it wouldn't be funny. Normally, he'd be out like a light at the first chance. Normally, he'd be in his bed, in Camelot, and Arthur would be _safe_.

Tonight, however, Merlin had quite a lot on his mind. Literally.

_I don't have to tuck you into bed or sing you a lullaby, do I?_

"Shut up, Arthur," Merlin muttered, rolling on his side. It felt nice to be sleeping on the floor again. He missed the earthy smell, sometimes.

Arthur wasn't lying beside him this time, though…

_I hope I can fall asleep. Staying here watching you sleep will actually drive me insane._

"Shut _up_, Arthur!" he hissed, shoving blankets over his head. "Some of us have bodies that need to function, you know?"

Silence descended once more, and Merlin lay in the dark and the cold until Arthur whispered again._Goodnight, Merlin._

Merlin smiled.

**A/N**

**Next chapter - Monday 8th December.**


	3. III

**A/N**

**Research for this chapter.**

The death rune mentioned, in my mind, looks something like the Todesrune. Similarly I mention a forest that comes to life; whilst I don't have a specific source for this (I did a dabble of research) they were pretty common folklore in northern Europe, shown in Tolkien's use (both in the Fellowship of the Ring and the Two Towers).

**Chapter III**

The problem with foreign territory, Merlin decided, was it was very much like normal territory. It was remarkably easy to get confused. One moment you're under Uther's jurisdiction, the next you're free… or as free as you can be with twelve barbarian lords poised to come down on you at any moment. Belvedere remained quite chipper about the whole experience.

They continued along the southern border for some time, trotting amiably along. What fascinated Merlin most was the simple way the animals plodded through borders, irrespective of whose side they took nuts from. Treaties and agreements meant nothing to them. Just survival.

The idea both fascinated and repelled him.

"God, this is dreary," Merlin muttered under his breath as Belvedere stopped to get his bearings. "How do you cope with it?"

_The men tell stories, or sing to each other, normally. _A pause. _For the love of all that's holy, please don't start singing._

"I've got a lovely singing voice, thank you," Merlin muttered, affronted.

_Is that what your mother told you?_

Merlin ignored him.

"Right, we should make it to our first town in a couple of hours' ride. We'll stop for some food then set off again." Belvedere swung back on his horse and kicked her off merrily, and Merlin jangled off behind.

"I'm getting quite good at this riding lark," he grinned, half to himself.

_I don't trust him._

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Belvedere?"

_He just turned up out of nowhere and said he was with Morgana. For all you know, he's from my father, spying on you. Or worse, if this story about the sorcerer is to be believed._

"He's got a twin called Fred," Merlin said absently, as if this was supposed to help the situation.

There was a long pause. _There are times when even_ I _worry for you, Merlin._

"Remember. We don't know who's in charge of the village at the moment; the politics around here are constantly changing. So no mentions of where we're from, where we're going. In fact, you'd better not talk at all."

Merlin nodded. "Right." He was used to shutting up.

_You're never this well-behaved for me._

"You never ask this nicely."

"It's just through this clea…"

They stepped through and Merlin promptly threw up.

Belvedere was used to the stench of battle. He was a soldier. Even Merlin had encountered dead bodies before; working with a physician held that danger. He had not, however, come across this guttural, awful smell before, burning and twining, singed _flesh _smell. _Rotting._ The bodies were strewn across the landscape, often no more than lumps of charred flesh and bone. The huts, once proud against the landscape, were now no more than firewood. Fantasies of Merlin's own home burnt like this filled his mind and the nausea rose again.

Worst of all, the place _stank _of dark magic.

"We should go," Belvedere whispered. "We should _go_." He kicked his horse into life and she charged off, and Merlin's followed suit with a strong whinny and stronger hind legs. Air whipped from his mouth before he could possibly reply, Merlin could do nothing but hang on until they came across a small stream, where Belvedere paused his panting horse, her eyes lolling, to take a drink. He dismounted and sat by the stream where Belvedere splashed his face, shaking.

"We could have – "

"Helped? No. There was no one left to help, Merlin. Besides, with magic as powerful as that you don't stay around long in case the sorcerer returns."

Merlin pretended to look nonplussed. "Magic?"

Belvedere looked at him as if he was an idiot. "Didn't you see the rune on the tree? Don't you know what that _means_?" Merlin hadn't needed to. He could _smell_ the magic. He still found the decency to look apologetic, and shrugged. "It was a death rune, Merlin," Belvedere said quietly. "Nobody survives magic like that."

He sighed and readjusted his saddle bags, Merlin checking the tent's fastenings. "Isn't there a leader? A king? Someone we could ask for help?"

Belvedere shook his head. "These lands are lawless. We should set off. We need to get as far away as possible by nightfall."

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" he whispered to Arthur as Belvedere busied himself with getting back on his horse.

_Not this powerful. Nothing _near _this powerful. Then again, I haven't been this far from Camelot for a long while either. Belvedere's right, though. There's no one out here to save you but yourself._

"And you," Merlin added quickly, but Arthur was silent again.

* * *

Belvedere was carving symbols into the trees around their camp as Merlin set up the tent that evening. His job was a lot briefer, so he started the fire going, and sat and watched him for a while. "Does Uther know you know magic symbols like that?"

Belvedere shook his head. "This is protective magic. No offence to Uther or anything, but he wouldn't know protective magic if it hit him over the head. It's not strong, but it could help from some of the animals that live in the woods nearby." Merlin walked over and pressed his fingers to the runes; the tree glowed with his eyes and flashed once into the gloom.

"How much," Merlin asked quietly, "did Morgana tell you about me?"

Belvedere was staring at him with wide eyes. "Evidently not enough." He grinned. "You could come in more use in a battle than I thought."

Battle.

Oh.

_Arthur._

Merlin stared walking.

"Where are you going?" Belvedere called. "It's not safe!"

"Just on a walk," he yelled back hurriedly. "I won't be long!" His feet carried him as far as he felt safe before he sank down on his knees in terror and whispered "Arthur?"

_You didn't tell me?_

"I – I never – "

_You didn't _tell_me?_

The worst thing was he didn't sound _angry_. He sounded _betrayed._

"I thought you'd hate me," he whispered.

_I'm not my father._

"I'm sorry," he squeaked. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

There was no reply.

Merlin cried himself to sleep that night, and he wasn't even sure Arthur could hear him or even _cared_.

* * *

_I would have stood by you._

Merlin shocked awake, gasping, head swimming from the aftershocks of his dream. "Wh… what?" he whispered into the dark, heavy folds of the tent.

_I would have stood by you. No matter what._

"You would have picked me over your father?"

_I did with the Mortaeus flower._

Merlin shook his head. "That was different."

_Yeah. That was just saving your life._

He chuckled drily. "It was still _different_."

_I helped you with Mordred. I've saved your life. I've helped you a thousand times, I've stuck up for you, I've defended you. How would this be different?_

"It just… was," Merlin finished lamely, and sighed.

_What was it? You didn't _trust _me?_

"No," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't know. I guess I was scared."

Arthur went very quiet. _You were scared of me?_

Merlin grinned. "You're a very scary man."

_I don't mean to be. _It was almost a mumble. _I don't mean to be._

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, but fumbled for the words to go on. "Before, you said you were frightened?"

_Just go back to sleep, Merlin._

"I'm scared too, Arthur." He paused. "If it helps." There was no reply, and Merlin wondered if Arthur could ignore him. He lay down again, rolling onto his back. "You don't… _hate_ me, for not telling you, do you?"

_No._

_Never._

Merlin sank into dreamless sleep.

* * *

After three and a half days, Merlin came to at least one solid conclusion; he _hated _riding.

_Oh, God, please stop _moaning_, Merlin!_

"Shall not," he muttered petulantly, stretching out his legs and wincing. "I have every right to moan, this is _agony_."

_You've only been riding for three days! That's _nothing_!_

"Doesn't feel like nothing." He sighed and turned back to Belvedere. "How much further, d'you reckon?"

Belvedere nodded up at the mountains ahead. "We've got to get over those first."

Merlin's face fell. "Please tell me there's a back route, or something?"

He shook his head. "Over or nothing. We can't take the horses much further, after this. There's a small town by the foot of the mountains; we'll leave them there and pick them up on the way back." He smiled. "When we get out of this forest, you'll have one of the finest views in the whole of the world."

The trees were thinning, almost imperceptibly; the horses seemed to notice, as they began to trot with slightly more vigour and fixed their eyes on the light ahead. Merlin had to admit he'd be glad to get out of the forest; the trees were starting to feel… looming around him.

Something drifted on the breeze. Something odd. He paused his horse for a second, turning her round gently to look the way they'd come. "It's so old," he murmured. "And full of magic." He frowned. "Strange… magic. _Ancient _magic." The trees creaked and writhed, and not entirely in the breeze.

Belvedere was waiting a little further up, anxiously checking the sun in the sky. "Merlin, we should move. Safe passage is nearly gone."

Black was crawling along the road behind them, and it was coming for _them_…

"Merlin!"

He kicked his horse into life; she didn't need telling twice. They broke into a blind gallop, only made possible by the trees deteriorating on each side; heartbeats later they burst out of the forest, Merlin gripping the mane in a blind panic, his eyes squeezed shut. Belvedere exited not much later, not quite at the speed Merlin had been travelling, but with as much haste in his eyes. The forest fell quiet behind him.

"There are dark places in the world," he whispered, eyes scanning the trees before him. "Dark places better left untouched."

"What was that?" Merlin gasped, desperately trying to save his breath.

_Would the words 'evil forest' sound a bit melodramatic to you?_

"Dark magic resides in some places as the natural order of things. It's not uncommon, this far from civilisation. Normally, I'd have taken a long way round, but I figured we had enough time with the sun in alignment to get through." Merlin shivered once; from the outside, the forest looked normal, even inviting. He didn't need his supernatural magical abilities (what Gaius had, somewhat unkindly, referred to as his woman's intuition) to tell him it was a façade. "We should get going. I want to show you something!"

The field they entered moved on a steep incline; at their present position Merlin couldn't see anything past the tops of the trees, but he guessed it'd be a different story from the top. They made a slow, slippery and often treacherous path up the side; often, Belvedere would get down and lead them by foot. Eventually, however, they made it to the top, and Belvedere opened his arms proudly.

"Welcome, Merlin, to our world!"

Everything stretched beyond beauty and marvel beneath his feet. He could see everything and nothing; each immaculate detail was there and yet too tiny to focus on, like the threads in the tapestries back home. He could see fields and mountains and castles and lakes and there, in the distance, was that the _sea_? Were there foreign lands, spread beyond that vast expense? Was someone staring at him, now, as he was staring across the ocean at them? His eyes drifted across the horizon, searching for something familiar, but finding nothing. Merlin felt a little more than disappointed at his apparent insignificance; in this, in the expanse of the world, this terrifying view, he was nothing, and it was _wonderful_.

A wisp of smoke caught his attention and he frowned. "What's that, that smoke, over there?"

Belvedere caught where he was pointing, and frowned, judging the location by what he could see surrounding them. "I…" he frowned again. "I think it's…"

_Camelot!_ Arthur gasped. _Camelot is burning!_

**A/N**

**Next update 11th December.**


	4. IV

**A/N**

**Research for this chapter.**

**Inns** – around in England since the Roman times.

**Dice** – conventionally introduced in England by Romans.

**Chapter IV**

"Camelot," Belvedere breathed, and Merlin looked aghast.

"Camelot?" he whispered. "Camelot can't – " He stumbled. "I mean – it's – "

He stared.

"It was a trap," Merlin gasped. "It was all a trap!"

_Oh no._

Belvedere turned to him with wide eyes. "They destroyed Camelot's two main defenders in one blow! They incapacitated Arthur, _knowing_ I'd ride off to his rescue, waited till I'd left then marched on the citadel with no one left behind to defend her!" He let out a long shaky breath. "Oh, God… What have I done?" Merlin looked at Belvedere, eyes panicking. "We have to go back! We have to – "

"No!" he shouted back, gripping on Merlin's arm. "What's the point in going back? If Camelot is destroyed there is _nothing_ we can do! It's too late!" Merlin struggled against his grip, but it was feeble and desolate. "Your friends will be dead, Merlin, or captured. If someone is powerful and wise enough to set up such an intricate plan then we have no hope of defeating them!"

"That's not true! If they sent me away they knew I would be strong enough to beat them – "

"When you're with your friends, not isolated and alone!" Belvedere sighed. "I've seen many a city rise and fall, Merlin. I'm older than you think. It _always_ happens. Trust me; there's no hope in riding back. Our best chance is to continue and see if this sorcerer Morgana knows is of any help."

_He's right, Merlin. _Arthur didn't seem begrudging; he just sounded desperately _sad_. _He's right._

"That's my home," Merlin whispered. "Gone."

_Your town will have survived; it's too far away and too small to be a problem_,Arthur replied, but they both knew that wasn't what he meant.

"Come on," Belvedere said gently. "If we make it to the village by nightfall we can find lodgings. You can sleep in a proper bed for once!"

Merlin tore his eyes from the landscape and turned from it once more, riding off into the gloom.

The village was small, quiet and hospitable, dwarfed by the mountain range looming overhead. Belvedere explained their route to Merlin; there was a pass they could make on foot, but the horses would be left behind. "They'd slip and break their necks; their hooves aren't meant for steep rock." Merlin had not had much argument for this; he was used to walking, and stretching his legs would be a welcome break from saddle sores. They bought heavy furs from the village people, who were only too happy to provide a seldom-seen trade, linings for their packs to keep them safe from snow and damp, and copious amounts of what appeared to be dried meat that Merlin was not particularly looking forward to.

They'd settled in to a rather homey looking inn, and were currently spread out on a large table in what could be loosely labelled a dining area. Across the room, a competition of some form of intricate local game was being played, the rules too obscure for Merlin to understand; he'd given up a while ago and was focusing on the battered map spread on the table. They'd left their horses with the landlord called, rather wonderfully, Larry – Merlin had at least five minutes of good fun (much to Arthur's protests) repeating 'Larry the landlord!' under his breath. He was the most trustable man of the village, and the least likely to sell them off before they got back… if they ever got back.

Merlin tried not to think about that.

Belvedere took another sip of wine, gesturing to the other side of the mountains. "When we get out the other side it's pretty easy from there, probably half a day's walk across some fields. The mountain pass should be pretty simple." He frowned. "Apart from the rock slides, of course…"

Merlin blanched. "Rock slides?"

"He's having you on," Larry laughed as he scooped up their finished plates. "The mountain had a bit of fuss, but that was well over a century ago." Belvedere appeared to nod in agreement, and Merlin frowned in puzzlement, but Larry had moved off before he could ask any more.

"Don't fancy joining in?" Belvedere gestured to the raucous championship happening across the room, and Merlin shook his head. "Good choice. Some people don't take too kindly to strangers, especially if you beat them. Get back to your room. We'll wait till dawn to leave tomorrow so we have a clear view of where we're treading."

Merlin bid Larry goodnight before trekking up the stairs; he paused to watch Belvedere walk over to the game. He was welcomed like an old friend, and picked up the dice with familiar fingers.

_Who is this man? _Arthur mused, and Merlin couldn't help but muse with him.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered as he traced his fingers in lazy circles on the pillow next to him, "do you ever wonder what life could be like? If you'd not been born a prince? If I'd never come to Camelot? If I'd never left?"

_No._

"I think I'd have found you anyway," he continued, ignoring Arthur's sarcasm. "I think this was destiny."

_After all this, you still believe in destiny?_

Merlin thought of the dragon. "Someone told me something was going to happen, and I promised them I'd make it true."

_What could be so important?_

Merlin hesitated. "They told me you would be a great king."

_They lied. There's no such thing as destiny. There's only death._

"And love," Merlin murmured, and to this Arthur had to concede.

_Yes. Death and love and everything in between._

* * *

It had snowed overnight, and whilst this was a rarity for Merlin he supposed he should probably get used to it. He blew on nervous gloved fingers as Belvedere adjusted his pack's straps, before turning to stare into the horizon. He thought of his friends, of Camelot, and for a moment was desperately sad, before he straightened his shoulders and turned back to Belvedere, who was talking to Larry.

"Give us a month, then sell our belongings and remove our records. If we get to the other side and find what we're looking for there's a good chance there'll be no point in coming back."

Larry nodded gravely before clapping Merlin on the shoulder. "Belvedere's the best. You're very lucky to have him with you." Merlin smiled gratefully, but his reassurance sparked off more questions than comfort. With a final glance around they set off on a small path meandering from the back of the inn, which dropped from sight pretty quickly as they entered the bottom of the mountain.

It was good to be walking again. Merlin had walked most of the way from his home town to Camelot; the activity was calming, though his pack was heavier and the road was colder. Walking up the mountainside to where the pass was basically involved a winding road with a steady incline; this was deceptively tiring, and Merlin's legs ached when they stopped for the night. He took one look at the stony ground and knew sleeping wasn't going to be any fun. They'd left the tent behind with Larry; it would be impossible to pitch on the uneven ground, and besides, there were plenty of handy caves for travellers along the mountainside. They squatted in one as Belvedere went off to find some water to cook their pathetic meal of various vegetables and Merlin's first introduction to dried meat.

"The going's pretty easy this far down; the shepherds often use these roads for exercising their animals, or getting to some fields the other side. When we get higher up it'll get colder and more treacherous," Belvedere explained as he stoked the fire. Merlin took a hesitant bite out of the meat and found it was sharp, salty and not altogether unpleasant. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

The cave was dry, and kept warm from the fire and various magical symbols put in the rock to help travellers. Superstition this far away from the cities tended to bend the other way; magic was seen as a way of keeping away monsters, of both spiritual and physical kinds, and a handy way to survive the winter. Warlocks were more like doctors, and were frequent visitors to the poorer villages of the area. Merlin decided he wouldn't mind travelling around helping the poor, if worst came to worst, but for now Belvedere said it would be better Merlin kept away from any sorcerers, as to not raise suspicions. Merlin curled up in a back corner, warm and feeling safe for the first time in a very long while. Making sure Belvedere was asleep, he pulled his blanket further around him and whispered to Arthur.

"I miss you."

Arthur took a moment to reply. _I'm right here._

"I know you are, and I'm glad."

_Good, because I was starting to feel like leaving if I was so unappreciated._

Merlin paused. "Could you? Leave, I mean. Where would you go?"

_I don't know._

"I didn't mean that, anyway." He sighed. "I miss seeing you. I miss talking to you." He hesitated. "I miss… touching you."

An awkward silence fell.

_Merlin?_

"What?" he whispered.

_What's going to happen to us?_

"I don't know," he mumbled.

_You were right._

"About what?"

There was no reply. _About everything._

"I was?"

_Merlin… I'm scared. What if I die? What if _you _die, and I just sort of… float, forever?_

"I won't let that happen," said Merlin, his voice determined. "I won't let _any _of that happen. That's a promise." He thought of Gaius, of Morgana, of Gwen, of the dragon. "I always keep my promises." Merlin began to sink into unconsciousness, weariness overtaking him.

_Merlin?_

"Hmm?" he yawned, eyes fluttering closed.

_I miss you, too._

* * *

The air was billowing from Merlin's mouth in fresh, sharp clouds when they stopped for lunch, Belvedere leaning on the rocky cliff face. Merlin had already perched on a rock to keep from the edge; he'd never thought himself as much of a 'heights' person, and the sheer drop into smoky white wasn't particularly helping this. Belvedere handed him a strip of meat and he took it happily, biting and chewing slowly and thoughtfully. "What will you do, if we can't go back to Camelot?" he asked Belvedere as they shared out the last of the blackberries.

Belvedere shrugged. "I've always sort of worked as a mercenary. I imagine wherever we settle someone will need a fighter." He paused. "There are always wars to be fought," he said softly, and Merlin nodded quietly in agreement. "How are you finding the shoes?" Merlin's had fallen apart from falling into a snowdrift; he'd had to slap some together from an old pair of Belvedere's and some of the leftover skins from the village.

"Sore, but breaking in nicely. I used to do a lot of walking, but that was before I went to Camelot…" He trailed off into nothing and stared at his feet.

"You must be very worried," Belvedere said softly, and Merlin nodded.

"They're my friends, and I don't even know if they're alive. But I still have Arthur," he added, and Belvedere looked at him oddly. "I mean, I still have the hope of rescuing Arthur," he corrected quickly.

"Not if Arthur's body was lost in Camelot."

Merlin's stomach wrenched. The thought hadn't occurred to him…

_I don't think it has been_, Arthur murmured when they were walking again. Most of the time he'd stayed silent, letting Merlin save his breath for walking, apart from the occasional soft song he'd hummed gently.

"Do you feel… connected to it?"

_Not as much. I just… don't see any sense in it being gone. And I wouldn't worry about the others; they_are_capable of looking after themselves._

Merlin trudged for a while, before continuing. "Do you reckon the others are alright?"

_I think they're probably the last stage of the plan. If this sorcerer wants you, they'll know that you're brave enough to come back to rescue your friends, so there's a good chance they'll be kept alive._

"You think I'm brave?" Arthur didn't reply, but Merlin's heart was carried with a little more than hope. He opened his mouth to reply, and found himself short of breath and gasping slightly.

_The air's getting thin. Save your breath._

Merlin nodded, evening out his breaths, and walked to the sound of Arthur's soft singing. He stopped and frowned; a soft snow had begun to fall, and he could no longer read Belvedere's leading footsteps underfoot. He tried calling out to him, but the wind stole his voice; he felt the hot, heavy surges of panic begin to settle in his chest, and he _ran_, stumbling blindly until he fell into the mouth of a cave.

There was a hot, heavy breath on the back of his neck. An inhuman breath.

Merlin turned round and screamed.

**A/N**

**Next update; Sunday 14th December.**


	5. V

**A/N**

**Research for this chapter.**

The creature mentioned is called the Cu Sìth, from Celtic mythology.

I know Merlin says fuck. He says 'okay' in the show, so I guessed that the dialogue has been, ah, 'modernised'.

Camlann is the battlefield where Arthur is mortally wounded.

**Chapter V**

The _thing _raised its huge, shaggy, green head to let out a bark and Merlin rolled and kicked out violently, scrabbling on the frozen rock. It _howled_ and it was monstrous, a shriek more than anything, and Merlin knew with dread it was going to kill him.

_MERLIN!_

He dodged a huge paw again; the thing reminded him horribly of the hunting dogs he used to play with outside the kitchens, but it was no natural creature. It was repulsive, huge and strange, and its cry was tearing at his heart.

_MERLIN, MOVE!_

"MERLIN!" Belvedere jumped in, sword in one hand, torch in another. He swung with violent movements at the creature's head and it backed away, howling as the blade struck home. Hungry, confused and now injured, it lashed out with a vengeance and Belvedere took the blow. Merlin's hand came up automatically, a surge of magic hurtling towards the creature, but it appeared to take no effect; Belvedere took the blow on his sword, and grappled with the beast. "MERLIN, RUN!"

"I'm not leaving you!" he cried, moving forward and fiddling with the sword around his waist.

_Merlin, do as he says, or God help me –_

"Shut up, Arthur," he hissed as he ran beside Belvedere. He'd made some progress; the creature had been driven further into the cave and was whining pitifully.

"Merlin, you have to get out of here," he hissed, shoving pieces of paper frantically into Merlin's hand; the map and the letter.

"I'm not leaving you," he repeated. "I keep my promises."

"You never promised me anything!"

"Well, I'm promising you now, and I'm not leaving you!" The torch was spluttering and dying in Belvedere's hands, and nothing Merlin said could revive it. The creature turned back towards them, new vengeance in its eyes, and it snarled once under its breath.

"You're an idiot!" Belvedere hissed, and Merlin chuckled.

"I've heard that before."

"Custom and Tradition, remember?" The creature had turned, and its legs were tensing, ready for the charge.

"Fuck them," Merlin growled, and in steady, loping bounds the dog-thing sped towards them. Merlin felt himself go numb with terror.

"I'm not who you think I am, Merlin," Belvedere whispered, and then the thing was upon them.

Merlin watched with horror as it tore into Belvedere with alarming alacrity; with a gurgling howl and covered in blood the two of them writhed to the floor. "Bel-"

_You can't do anything for him, Merlin. Get out while you can._ Arthur sounded terrified. _Merlin, please! You promised you wouldn't die, _please_!_

"I can't just – " He'd been steadily backing to the exit, watching the two figures grapple inside of the cave.

_You _can_, Merlin! Please!_

Blind terror flooded his system.

Merlin ran.

* * *

Alone, lost, petrified, Merlin ran. He stumbled through what had become a blizzard, terrified the thing would follow him, terrified Belvedere was trying to find him, terrified he was lost, terrified he'd never see sun or smiling or _Arthur _again, oh god, he thought desperately, oh Arthur, I miss you so much, I just want this to be over…

The cave was a godsend. He knew when he collapsed inside he couldn't have gone much further, and he sank into unconsciousness.

_Merlin_, Arthur whispered, and the word itself held power. A white mist settled over him, and Merlin slept.

* * *

When he woke, it was over. He was still desperately hungry, but there was a harsh, fresh sunlight breaking in from outside; he peered into the cave entrance, his pupils thinning in the light. There was a warm fire beside him, and Merlin sat up, scanning his eyes in hope for Belvedere.

_Morning, sleepyhead._

"Where's – "

_I don't know. You did this yourself._

"… I set a fire going in my sleep?"

_It's a wonder we're both still alive. You had some weird protective thingy going last night, as well. The wolves rebounded off it, it was quite amusing._

"Wolves?" Arthur chose not to reply. "You didn't get any sleep?" he whispered softly as he straightened up.

_Not much._

Merlin smiled as he walked to the cave's entrance, dowsing the fire with a wave of his hand. As he walked into the crisp, clean snow he looked around helplessly at his surroundings; he had no idea where he came from last night, and even no idea where to go next. He sighed. "I hope he's okay," he murmured.

_You're the one stuck on a mountain you've never visited before with no previsions, no guide and no idea about walking on rocks._

"Be quiet," he said absently as he checked around the cave. He peered at the map. "We must be quite far along the trail," he said decisively. "We'd been walking for a couple of days, and Belvedere said it'd take a few at most." He rolled it up and stuffed it in a various pocket. "I reckon the best chance is to set out in one direction and hope for the best!"

_That's it? That's your wonderful plan?_

"I don't see you coming up with any ideas."

_Can't you use your magic to… I don't know, point you in the right direction?_

"Oh!" Merlin said brightly, beaming. "I suppose that would be quite useful!"

… _can you?_

"Of course not. I can't just _do _magic, I have to learn it!"

He could almost _feel _Arthur's sigh. _Blindly stumbling about on the mountainface it is._

"Oh come on, Arthur," he teased as they set off. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

* * *

_Oh come on, Merlin_, Arthur said sarcastically as Merlin frowned at the map, _where's your sense of adventure?_

"Shut up," he muttered. "You're not helping." Pointing, he opened his mouth to continue, but Arthur caught him short.

_That rock looks familiar because we passed it half an hour ago. Face it; we're hopelessly lost._

"That's not _my _fault," he muttered. "We'd have been a lot better off if you'd told me half an hour ago I was holding the map the wrong way up!"

_It was _very _funny._

"Not laughing now, though?"

_It got boring quickly. Are you sure you can't do any better than charging off, yelling 'it's this way!'?_

"You're still not being much of a help!"

_You want my advice? Get up somewhere high and see if you recognise anything. _Merlin doubtfully eyed the path he'd been about to take; it led rather stubbornly downwards. _You went down that one three times ago._

Merlin sighed. "You'd better be right about this," he muttered, and began to hike up the incline to his right. Conversation ceased as Merlin saved his breath for climbing; his fingers became torn on the sharp rocks as he used them to scramble up the mountainface. Arthur didn't feel the slightest bit remorseful, he could tell. He nearly fell twice, at least; the comforting way his magic seemed to wrench his feet back to the rock reassured him, and with a few more close shaves he burst out into the sunlight, and he was _on top of the world_.

_Wow_, Arthur said, and Merlin couldn't help but agree.

Behind him was purely mountain and cloud, but ahead the wisps cleared to reveal green fields and blue, sparkling sea, stretching to infinity. "It's so beautiful," he whispered, and his mind captured every precious second.

_I think we found our way down_. Merlin smiled as he picked out the path beneath him, correlating it with his map and feeling hope swell in his chest.

"I think I'll stay here for a while," he murmured as he sat down on a rock, staring across at the beauty before him. He munched on a few berries he'd found on an earlier expedition and stared, a smile slowly working across his face. "You know, when I set out on this, I couldn't imagine anything worse. But being here, with you… I wouldn't give it up for the world."

There was a long pause.

_You _girl.

Merlin couldn't sit and stare at beauty forever; he could tell the vain man sitting in the back of his head was getting jealous. Besides, he had a kingdom to save. Hopping down the mountain was a lot easier than going up it, and a lot more satisfactory, too; for the first time in a long while he could actually see where he was going. (Besides, there were those fantastic moments when he got to actually roll down the hill, regardless of Arthur calling him a child in the back of his head.) He made an easy way through snow, then rock, then patches of grass, and spending only one night in a rather hospitable cave he was at the foot of the mountain again, endless green plains stretching before him. "Belvedere said half a day's walk from this point," he muttered as he set off, peering at the map again. "I reckon I should be there before noon." He did, however, make sure to avoid any areas with big question marks beside them, as, on later referral, he found the forest they'd passed through before had one present. "Better safe than sorry," he told Arthur, who simply sighed.

_Whatever. Just do it as quickly as possible; the inside of your mind is getting _incredibly _dull. Besides, I have an itchy nose._

Merlin trudged. It appeared to be perhaps the most boring place in the world; nothing but fields of grass, cropped as short as his ankle, stretched beyond him. And yet they seemed somehow more eerie than the forests, more foreboding than the mountains against the horizon behind him. It was so quiet his whispers to Arthur felt like a shout.

_There are no animals here._The wind rippled through the short grass. _No birdsong, no prints in the soil. It's meaningless._

"It's like a fantasy," Merlin whispered back to him.

_It feels like death. What does this map say it's called?_

Merlin peered at it. "Camlann," he said slowly. "I've never heard anything of it before."

_Me neither. I just… have a feeling. Like nothing living can ever reside here again. This place is meant for something, and it scares me._

Merlin shrugged. "Seems alright to me. It'll just be dodgy soil, or something." Arthur, however, said little more for the rest of the journey. "According to this, the house is just in the middle of a field somewhere."

_Which field?_

The grass stretched on around them, silently. "I can't see anything. Not for miles." Merlin came to a halt and turned; the mountains had completely disappeared behind him. There was nothing; no trees, no sea, nothing but the wind and the grass. "O-kaay," Merlin said slowly. "This is starting to creep me out a bit." He turned back to the way he had been facing, squeaked and fell flat on his arse.

There was a house in the middle of the field ahead of them, not two hundred yards away.

Merlin picked himself up and dusted himself off; even Arthur wasn't taking the opportunity to mock him. _We're here. This is it._

"I've been expecting you, Merlin," a voice said behind him, and Merlin turned.

**A/N**

**Next update is on Wednesday 17th December.**


	6. VI

**A/N**

**Research**** for this chapter.**

The Queen of the Wastelands is one of the three women who help Morgana remove Arthur from Camlann. I could unearth nothing but the name, so I drafted Mae.

Did some research on the doll; popular child's toys from much earlier than the set time.

Again with the modernisation; whilst I did find evidence the hairstyle was obvious the word 'pigtails' is a nineteenth century Americanism, but I'm stacking it with 'okay' and using it anyhow.

**Chapter VI**

Merlin stared.

This_ is the sorceress?_

The small, pretty sorceress, wearing a white pleated dress and holding a doll.

"You're just a child!" Merlin spluttered, and the child sighed crossly, rolling her eyes.

"Really? What gave it away? Was it the pigtails?"

Merlin heard Arthur's chuckle. _Probably the fact she goes up to your waist._

Her eyes flashed. "You mind your manners, Arthur Pendragon!" She pouted, her eyes floating to the doll in her arms, which she squeezed once. "I'm very sensitive about my height."

Merlin _gaped _at her. "You can _hear _him?"

The girl frowned, eyes tracking over to Merlin again. "Are you actually as stupid as you look? Of course I can hear him. I put him there!"

Merlin spluttered, affronted. "You put him – what?"

"Come on! We'll have some tea, then a talk, then some biscuits!" She frowned. "Or the biscuits first…?" She looked at Merlin, expecting an answer. He was too flabbergasted to reply, and when she received none she shrugged and skipped merrily into the house. Merlin's mother used to tell him stories with words like 'quaint' and 'picturesque'; he'd never had a use for those words till now, looking at the house. Cottage. _Whatever_.

_I _like_ this_ _one._

"I don't know," Merlin said cautiously, glancing around as he ducked to get through the miniscule doorway. "I'm not sure we've come to the right place."

_Merlin__, for once in your life, _think _about it. She can't be all she seems. How could a child survive out here?_

"He's smarter than he looks," the girl nodded, head bobbing in approval.

So this is how Merlin found himself sat at a table that went up to his knees, drinking imaginary tea from a small cup hooked around his smallest finger and being lectured by a cross-eyed doll, the spitting image of her mistress. "It's all rather a mess, I say," the doll said, on behalf of the girl with her arm round its waist. "Naturally, I try and avoid these messy confrontations, but what can you do? Sometimes boys will be boys." She let out a weary sigh.

"Uh," Merlin said. "There was a man, with me in the mountains, Belvedere? I just want to know – "

"Oh yes, he's fine, more tea? I'm Mae, by the way. Queen of the Wastelands, actually, so technically you should curtsey." Her grin sharpened.

"Merlin," Merlin replied, waving his hand in a half-distracted way. She was looking at him expectantly, and they spent a good minute staring at each other, before Merlin cracked. "What?"

Mae sighed. "I believe you have something to give me…?"

Merlin stared.

_The letter, you idiot._

"Oh!" He fished around inside his pockets, pushed it over the table and beamed. It was folded in half and very grubby. Mae picked it up gingerly and slid it into a box by her feet. Merlin frowned. "Aren't you going to read it?"

Mae looked at him. "What? Oh, it's nothing important. It's just a letter."

Arthur started to laugh.

"I came all this way to act as a _postman_?" Merlin spluttered, staring at her aghast.

"It _was_ simply a fringe benefit. You have _no _idea how hard it is to keep in contact with one's friends and family living all the way out here! Besides, you had to come all this way. It's part of the rules; Custom and Tradition and all. It was _character building._" She took another sip of non-existent tea. "I'm surprised you haven't asked me all the obvious questions yet. Very unlike you, subtlety."

_I _really _like this one._

Merlin ignored him. "Earlier, when you said _you _put Arthur in my head…?"

Mae nodded absently, putting down her tea. "I thought you might want to know. Basically, I had a choice of either you or Uther. I chose the most able-bodied – and, naturally, for the spell to work best I picked the 'closest' man – and put him in his heart." She looked at Merlin suspiciously, as if fearing she'd lost him when she started using words with more than two syllables. "Closest _emotionally. _It's nothing to do with proximity."

Merlin stared.

_Closest…?_

"Heart?"

"Yes," she said simply. "It's old magic, dead magic, but it still works. To save a life, preserve the mind whilst the body rots, but you can only put it in certain places; a flower, but they tend to get crushed, a bottle, but they get lost or broken…" She trailed off, and locked her eyes with Merlin's. "Or a heart," she finished softly. "Which is where the whole, 'close emotionally' thing comes into it." A smile spread across her face, and she began to fiddle with the doll's plaits. Her legs, which couldn't quite reach the floor, swung beneath the table.

"Hang on," Merlin said anxiously, "being close emotionally…?"

Mae shrugged, opening her mouth, but Arthur stepped in first. _Can you fix me?_

She closed her mouth and nodded. "Easy."

Here it was, the million dollar question; "Will you?" Merlin felt himself leaning forwards in his seat.

She shrugged. "Depends. Normally I wouldn't; it's too much _effort._" She paused, her eyes moving to Merlin's. "But I like you two." She grinned a small, malevolent smile.

Merlin sat back; his relief was evident. His teeth began to worry at his bottom lip. "Will he be alright?" Merlin whispered. Arthur was frightened. He could _sense _it.

She shrugged. "Getting him back in his body's the easy job. _You've_ got the hard one – you've got to deal with what happens _next_."

_Ride into Camelot as my knight in __shining armour._

Mae laughed; Merlin remained stoic. "Are you _sure_ he's going to be alright?"

"Yes," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Now do you want me to do this or not?"

_Merlin. _Arthur's voice was a warning. _There's no sense in coming all this way then backing out._

He sighed. "I know." Merlin looked at Mae imploringly, and she shrugged. "You might as well," he muttered. "I don't see what else can be done. What do I have to do?"

"No sudden movements," she warned, but she was grinning. Her eyes closed, **Hello, Arthur,** and her voice was _inside his head._

_Goodbye, Merlin. _His voice sounded choked with fear.

"It's not goodbye, really, you idiot," he whispered, but he too was irrationally afraid.

**Come along.**

"Be safe," he whispered, and Arthur was gone.

* * *

He opened his eyes to see Mae sitting on her chair, staring into the sun. "It's over," she said absently, and Merlin nodded. He could tell. For the first time he felt _truly _alone.

"What do I have to do?" His voice was croaky and feeble.

"You have to get back to Camelot. You have to set right everything that's gone wrong. I'm sorry, but it has to be you." She _was_ sorry; it rang true in her face, in her ageless, sad eyes.

He nodded and looked down miserably. "I'm going to have to defeat this sorcerer. The one who's done all of this." He looked up. "Am I right?"

She shrugged, long, white fingers trailing in a bowl of water by her side. "I honestly don't know. Your future's a bit… odd." She paused. "Sketchy. There's not much I can tell you."

"That means I'm going to have to _fight_ him." He sighed. "I hate fighting. I'm _rubbish _at it!"

Mae shrugged. "So use your magic."

Merlin stared. "I can't do that! I mean, I don't know any fighting spells, and he'll have had loads of experience, and he'll have a lot of men, and – "

"Sounds like a lot of excuses to me."

"It's easy for you to say, you're stuck all the way out here!" Merlin sighed. "Besides, he's so much _stronger_ than me."

She paused for a moment, her eyes floating out of the window. "No one's stronger than you, Merlin. No one."

He shook his head dismissively and snorted. "How am I supposed to get back to Camelot, anyway? I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with no guide, no food – "

"I can help you there." Her fingers wrapped around his temples, her thumb and forefinger placed each side, her grip surprising for her age, and Merlin realised she was _far_ more than what she seemed. He stared at her silently as she whispered "Goodbye, Merlin," and he was gone.

* * *

Mae fluttered open the letter from Morgana, but she had no need to read it. She'd foreseen this day long before.

She sat back and closed her eyes. This was her duty; she remained, waiting for the battle to end the age. To play her role, no matter how insignificant.

Around her, the grassy plains blew on.

* * *

Camelot. Castle of old, home of kings, defender of the crown.

Desolate and burning.

Merlin landed unspectacularly in a ditch. He struggled up the side, covered in mud, and found he was a good distance from the palace. "Thanks," he muttered, and began to trudge.

His heart throbbed _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur _every turn.

There was no point in attempting the element of surprise. Merlin was what this sorcerer wanted. He had no advantage here.

He would just have to make an _entrance_.

Merlin smiled. He was good at those.

Camelot was deserted when he stepped inside the castle; the stone itself was pure, untouched, but the village beyond the walls burnt. He stood in the courtyard and wondered at the deadness of it; it was silent, an inhalation before a scream. He padded though the corridors and entered the vast meeting hall, once illustrious and proud, now a mockery of ages.

"He arrives!" a voice rang, and Merlin turned to face his foe.

The man was tall, and broad, and not unlike Arthur in stature. He held himself well, one hand resting on a staff beside him, the other spread open in welcome. Merlin paced forwards quietly, coming to stand at the foot of the man's steps. Uther sat beside him, slumped on the stairs, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, and yet _alive_; Merlin could hear the steady _ba-dum_ of his heart in his chest, his own heart alive with magic. "I have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, at last!" he called to Merlin, reaching for the wine beside him. "After all this trouble you've gone and caused me as well." He laughed and drank.

Merlin stood silent and bore it all.

"Come, have something to eat. You've gone _such _a long way. And what does Camelot do better than _parties_?"

Merlin did not move.

His eyes narrowed. You'll haveto improve your game, Merlin thought to himself. I've taken worse from Arthur everyday_._ "Your friends have been quite good company." _No._ Merlin forced himself to calm down, his hair beginning to crackle with magic in anger. "Ahh," he said softly. "Have I hit the spot?"

This was it; the words he'd waited to say. Merlin squared his shoulders and did his very best to be imperialistic. "Let them go!" he commanded.

He laughed. "No." A flick of his finger; Merlin flew across the hall and into darkness.

* * *

Someone was hugging him when he woke up.

"God, I was so worried!"

Gwen.

He opened his eyes and peered up at her. He grinned. "Hello."

"You're a complete idiot, you know that?" she hissed, hugging him frantically. His head throbbed, but with a flurry of sparks the pain vanished. Pushing himself to a sit, his eyes scanned around the cell; concerned eyes raked him from at least two sources. A third was closed; a fourth stared out of the window.

"Hello, Arthur," Merlin said quietly, and the man turned to him and smiled.

"I told you he'd come back!" Gwen hissed conspiratorially to Morgana, who smiled broadly at her and put a hand on Merlin's knee.

"We've been very worried," she murmured softly. Merlin grinned at her.

"I can look after myself." He paused. "Thanks for getting me out. I was worried whether Uther…"

Gwen bowed her head. Morgana caught the movement and sighed. "Uther didn't have time to punish us. Imrah turned up, and then…"

"There was fire. And so much _screaming_." Gwen shuddered, and Morgana bit her lip.

"Imrah?"

"The big guy upstairs. You might have missed him." Merlin jumped; the comment had come from Arthur, who had been until then staring at him in a most disconcerting way.

"Hi," he whispered, and Arthur smiled at him.

"Hi."

They both sat and stared.

Morgana coughed uneasily, and Merlin looked away, blushing at the floor. Gaius was asleep on the bench; his chest fell softly, and Merlin felt a rush of sadness to see him so feeble. "He sleeps most of the day," Morgana said softly. "I think Imrah has broken his mind. He took him away and when he came back he sat and stared and slept."

"At night he screams," Gwen added quietly.

Merlin's eyes were hard. "How long have you been down here?"

Gwen shrugged. "It's hard to tell. Three, four days? He doesn't let us out. Well, he took Morgana and made her dance with him once…" They shared a pained expression. "But the rest of the time he sits there. Gloating." Merlin shuddered once.

There was a noise at the door; a guard was unlocking it, bearing a plate of food. "Well," Merlin said with a smile. "At least they feed you." The others' hungry eyes traced the plate, but Merlin was staring at the guard. "Belvedere?" he whispered, and the other man looked up.

"Hello, Merlin."

There was a long and very worrying pause.

Belvedere sighed. "I told you I wasn't who you thought I was."

Merlin's eyes glittered. "He sent you to spy on me, didn't he?" He got to his feet, his whole body seething. "Everything, _everything _you said to me was a lie!"

Belvedere shook his head. "I was supposed to kill you in the forest, when we met. Or convince you to go back to Camelot. Imrah said you'd be alone, defenceless…"

"What stopped you?" A deadly whisper.

"You did," Belvedere said simply, and Arthur smiled. "You and your idiocy and your silly walk and the fact you were so useless and your horse was already halfway to Camelot when I found you. I wanted to _help_, Merlin." Belvedere shrugged. "Imrah had kept my wife captive, but I knew he'd kill her as soon as I left the castle. There was nothing he had left to force me to do what he wanted." He paused. "I love Camelot. I was just trying to help."

Merlin was staring at the floor. "Imrah killed your wife?" Belvedere nodded

This suffering was too much to bear, _too much to bear_.

Morgana, Belvedere, Gwen, Gaius in his mind, and _Arthur in his heart_, Merlin _broke. _Alive with magic, his hand rose; the doors of the cell slammed apart and Merlin walked through the debris.

Morgana, Arthur and Gwen exchanged a look and followed.

Merlin had never marched before. He'd never so much as strutted without looking like a complete idiot. He _strode_, now, and the palace burst with magic around him.

"We duel," Merlin _boomed_, his words intoned with magic as he marched into the chamber. "For the kingdom. For all these people."

Imrah's eyebrow rose slowly. "A _magical _duel?" He laughed. "You hope to beat _me _at magic?"

"_No one's stronger than you, Merlin. No one."_

Merlin smiled, and his hair _crackled_. "I'd like to give it a go."

Imrah's eyes widened in mirth. "I'll accept it," he said slowly, exposing sharp, pointed teeth, stained with blood and wine. "Shall we?" He gestured widely to the doorway.

A moment; a hasty glance, stolen with Arthur, a _pleasepleasedon't _glance, replied with a _trust me, I told you I'd keep you safe_. "Yes," Merlin said to Imrah, but he looked at Arthur all the while.

* * *

They stood in the courtyard in silence.

"For the kingdom?"

Their hands locked. Merlin nodded once.

"For the kingdom," he whispered, and they parted once more.

Marching apart, Merlin stopped at one end of the space, Imrah at the other. They stood and stared before blue lightning lanced from Imrah's raised hand and golden from Merlin's; seconds of eternity passed, crackling and screaming as air was torn asunder, before Imrah shrieked "STOP!" and the magic fizzled out again.

Imrah was panting; Merlin wasn't even out of breath.

His eyes _glowed _with gold.

Slowly, Merlin rose, a phoenix wreathed with flames; Imrah floated free, wrapped in blue. Fire and ice against the sky, they rose higher; the crowd below could not see who struck the first blow. The pair became a myriad of screaming colours, _purplewhitegreen_, of flashes against the sky, of delayed thunderclaps which shattered the heavens and tore the ears of those below. Gwen and Morgana huddled together, ducking from the occasional outburst, but Arthur stood in the centre, his eyes fixed on the tumult above.

"Arthur," Morgana shouted, stepping forwards. "Arthur!"

He did not hear her; or did not obey her call. Either way, he stood in the centre and watched the pair, even when the colours burnt so brightly they scorched the eyes of the watchers below.

He didn't care. This was _Merlin_. Merlin would _always _keep him safe.

The sky began to scream. It was a horribly inhuman shriek, and yet all those below watched the skies _knowing _it was from Imrah. It was a noise not possible by any lung, by any throat, and Imrah screamed it. And Merlin _caused _it.

Arthur had never thought he'd be _afraid_ of him.

The noise escalated; the ice Imrah had trailed on the ground broke with the force of it. There was ducking, screaming, shouts that all must have been lost; it was hopeless, hopeless, hopeless…

Shining in a white halo, Arthur stood and watched it all.

The cessation was sudden; Imrah slammed to the floor in a burnt husk, lips still cracked and bleeding, limbs twitching. Above them, the heavens crackled once more, deep thunderclaps, and were still.

It began to rain.

Arthur stood in the centre, his eyes still affixed on the sky, until Morgana came and stood beside him. "Arthur," she said softly. "Arthur, it's over."

"It's not," he replied, and the sun broke through the clouds as Merlin descended and fell into Arthur's arms.

**A/N**

**Epilogue to be posted on ****Saturday.**


	7. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

When Merlin woke, the castle was still and silent. The sheets he held were soft, and the room was bright with light.

_It was over._

* * *

He walked softly through the halls, running his fingers on cool stone. He stopped by a window and stared at the courtyard below; the cracks and scorches on the slashed cobbles. Would Arthur let him fix it, or keep it there as a reminder?

No time for dwelling. He had a job to do.

Uther was in his chamber, resting fitfully. Merlin was surprised Arthur wasn't by his bedside; it became apparent he had collapsed with exhaustion and had to be carried from the room. It didn't surprise Merlin. He closed his eyes wearily and placed cool fingers on Uther's temples.

It was a moment before Uther finally opened his soft eyes and _saw_, and Merlin sent him gently, naturally to sleep again with a mumble of "rest, my liege".

His King was so fragile it scared him.

* * *

It was rather like working for Gaius, he decided as he moved through the halls. Moving from one ravaged (oft bloodstained) bedside to the other, administrating, caring. He thought briefly of the warlock-nurses in the outskirts, how a quiet life was so very easily within his grasp. That Arthur would accompany him, if asked, was a matter of fact.

Was this 'closeness'?

Was it love?

* * *

Gaius' spell was the hardest to break.

This Imrah was skilled in ways Merlin couldn't even dream. Evil ways. Even those fellow servants or the occasional (surviving and somewhat reconciled) noble who remembered before 'the purge' couldn't recall an extent of _control_ like this.

Merlin took it how Gaius always told him to. Slowly, patiently, calmly. (Everything he wasn't.) If he _stopped _and _thought_ he'd have the answer, and so Merlin moved his hands _calmly_ to Gaius' forehead.

Gaius smiled when he woke. "I knew you'd do it," he murmured, and they embraced like the dying.

* * *

Arthur peacefully unconscious, gently recovering, he spent this day (and, admittedly, many more to come) moving restlessly through the palace. He had all this _power_ and no sense of it; no control. He wondered what would become of him now. Execution? Decoration? Uther? Arthur?

He smiled. For once, it was nice not to _know_.

* * *

When he finally saw Arthur, it was beauty.

His prince was half dressed (he managed that much by _himself_ and was that pride he felt?) and with Merlin in the doorway they clashed together each halfway, Arthur with one shoe missing, Merlin's desperate fingers clutching at his tunic.

There was no need for words.

Merlin's fingers drifted across the buttons; Arthur's tears smeared on Merlin's cheeks as they kissed like the drowning, starving souls they were.

* * *

Belvedere had nearly managed to get away before dawn, but he was against one of the greatest warlocks of all time, and Merlin was waiting for him in the stables with a wry smile. "For a soldier, you're really no good at sneaking," he murmured, and his friend smiled. "Where will you go now? To be a mercenary?"

Belvedere paused and looked at Merlin. "The idea seems perfect, and yet…" His eyes trailed to the horizon with a soft shake of the head. "I think something simple. Something pure. Something far from fighting and death and magic. Something with hope."

Merlin nodded. "It sounds good enough to me. You'll always be welcome here, you know."

Belvedere nodded absently. "I know," he murmured. "But I don't ever wish to come back."

They embraced softly. Belvedere mounted up and looked down at him, smiling beatifically into the early-morning sunlight. Merlin's fingers trailed in the reins. "I expect I shall come find you someday. Just to make sure you're not making a nuisance of yourself."

Belvedere's smile widened. "I look forward to the day." He paused and together they were, the last remnant of a legend that would never be told. "Goodbye, Merlin."

"Goodbye." Merlin walked and turned away as Belvedere's horse gave an almighty cry to avoid watching him ride into the sun.

* * *

Morgana's parting was _awful_.

She was sat on her horse, staring into the distance when Merlin and Arthur approached. Gwen was fiddling with the reins, face streaked with tears, and although Morgana smiled it was one of despair. "It's time," she whispered to Merlin, who nodded absently. The horror of Morgana's fate – one of pure evil – beginning to emerge, Merlin felt truly repulsed; he had always had a blind faith in happy endings. In fixing everything. In perfection. Not today, it seemed. Not today. Morgana turned to Arthur and smiled, albeit shakily, but with an underlying fondness that had, in retrospect, _always _been there. "When we meet again we will be enemies."

"When we meet again you won't be _you_," Arthur croaked. "Your sanity? Why?"

Morgana's eyes slid shut, and the tears escaped. "I never hated you, Arthur."

She wrenched free of Gwen's grip and rode. It was moments before she vanished into the distance; seconds before Gwen's knees hit the stone and she shriekedin agony. "Me neither," Arthur whispered, and he and Merlin turned inside together.

* * *

_the future_

* * *

Arthur's coronation was joyously sad, the true semblance of tragedy.

Arthur missed his father and Merlin missed Gaius and Gwen missed Morgana and together they grieved for the lost, the fallen, for friends long gone.

That night, Merlin moved to Arthur's chambers. Arthur smiled and remarked it was by Royal Decree. Merlin kissed away the pain that blossomed in his eyes.

That was the night of broken "I love you"s and promises to last forever.

That was the night Merlin came so hard he jumped into the sun.

* * *

"I never wanted this," Merlin whispered across the pillows; Arthur opened his soft eyes. "This adventure. I wished against it with all my heart."

"But you went," Arthur murmured, and Merlin smiled.

"Yes. I went. And look where I am now."

Arthur smiled. Their fingers entwined across the white.

* * *

And now they sleep, and wait for their next adventure.


End file.
